This is war
by Eye of the Dragons
Summary: This story centers around Team Plasma, their new schemes, their stories, and who, exactly, they are. It will probably be violent in some parts, with some romance and lots of emotional scars. After their last plot, Team Plasma is working up to something big...


Driftveil city was one of Ember's favorite cities in Unova. The scent of salt and fresh water blowing off the river comforted her somehow, and there were plenty of interesting things to do. She enjoyed chatting with Rood and the others who had forfeited ties to Team Plasma.

This, however, was infuriating.

"Come on," she pleaded, squishing her black and gold hat tighter over a deep red ponytail. "I don't get why Zekrom can't go in the tournament. I need… it." Zekrom didn't have a gender, of course.

The man guarding the entrance to the Pokemon world tournament crossed his arms and shook his head impatiently. He felt a bit awkward, showing this rudeness to one who had beat Champion Alder and delivered Unova from a dark scheme, but rules were rules.

Dark gold eyes cast him a last glare, then Ember huffed and stalked off, her gold bag bouncing against her hip with every step. That had put her in a bad mood pretty quickly. The spunky girl didn't like being told she couldn't do something. She also happened to hate the way people acted so fake to her.

Shaking her head in disgust, the dark-skinned girl considered her options. With another whirl on red-laced boots, she made her way through a throng of people, pushing into the open marketplace. Faces swirled around her, the chatter of conversation and hagglers was noisy, but not unpleasantly so to her. She browsed through the selections displayed neatly around, then finally made her way back towards the exits, satisfied with her purchase of several revival herbs.

"You have Dragon type. You want Draco incense? Makes Dragons strong." The voice, one with a creepily rumbling Russian accent, came from a young man sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by jars of varying colors. Carrot orange hair swept freely across his face, making him look closer to her age of twenty than he was. He winked a dark, glossy blue eye. "Discount for pretty girl?"

Ember's hand moved instantly to her hip, where her Pokeballs were strung. Her fingers gripped the plastic sphere, just in case. "Er. No, thank you Scott, the moon cracked a spoon."

The Plasma grunt's eyes widened. That was not the type of passcode someone just guessed, even if they wore a badge of blue lightning to signify Zekrom's mark on their vest. "Very well," he said, voice shifting into a normal Unovan speech pattern. "Follow me." He placed the Draco incense carefully into the many boxes surrounding his stand, grabbed Ember's right arm, and led her swiftly out of the crowd.

Ember disapproved of the contact, but didn't voice it until they were safely outside the market. "Now, can you let go?"

Scott dropped her wrist and glanced about furtively. "If you must speak, make it in a low voice." He laughed sharply. "Electronic devices, they're everywhere."

Ember gave the illusion of leaning back, though she stood straight without anything to support herself against. "What is it? Are we moving from stage 000 already?" She glared at several passerby who seemed to close, and they hurried on.

Scott nodded, a birdlike, tense movement. "Yes. But there is a little hitch in our plan- an extremely annoying one with a purple explosion on her head."

Ember sighed and dragged a hand down her face. "Iris? I suppose _he_ is not stopping for anything?" she said wryly.

Scott just raised his eyebrows and looked at her. Tapping his foot impatiently, he shoved his hands into the crook of his elbows. The sea-breeze was cold. He didn't get how Ember survived in shorts and no sleeves.

"Fine. She's not too terribly bright. We'll be able to get her to give chase easily enough." Ember took a deep, steadying breath. "We'd better go. He doesn't take kindly to lateness."

Scott shuddered. That Hydreigon scared the socks off of him.

Monroe glanced up again. The sky over Virbank was gray and cloudy. Water spatted into his eyes, finding a gap in the leaves he stood under. His dark navy hair was already hanging into his maroon eyes, impairing his vision. He shook his head irritably and drew his hands back into the sleeves of his red and white jacket, blowing on his fingers in an attempt to warm them before risking a dash across the street and into the warm glow of the Pokemon center. He turned and stared out the glass doors to the rain pattering gently, making splashes on the concrete streets, the stragglers holding newpapers uselessly over their heads, bowing against the chilling wind.

Monroe rubbed his hands together, feeling the wet coldness. Then he jumped, because a soft voice had spoken a ways behind him. "Can I help you?"

Nurse Joy smiled gently at the soaked boy.

"No." Monroe tried not to let the impatience show in his voice, but he was rather mad. "I'm waiting for someone. Thank you." He turned back to the dreary scene outside, wondering if she was okay. Of course, this was probably just her usual habit of not being punctual.

He stared into the bleak grey sky that roiled with thunder, hoping that she'd think to look for him here.

That is, _if_ Ember ever showed up.


End file.
